Over the last year, the work I’ve done as head of literacy and English as an Additional Language at a London secondary school has secured improvement in the reading age attainment of every year group.
I’ve helped deliver the best results at GCSE and A-level our school has ever seen.
The level of English proficiency among pupils has increased. The overall culture and integration of various groups of children has begun to take shape. I have been so proud to be a part of this change and progress.
But one day, whilst browsing, I saw the headline “migrants already in UK face longer wait for permanent settlement”.
I felt my heart drop into my stomach.
I moved to London four years ago from America. I’m less than a year away from eligibility for indefinite leave to remain, but plan to make my life here, and this summer I was looking forward to answering the year 8 history trivia questions about the Magna Carta, 1066, and Henry VIII’s wives.
I have been in England for four years. I have invested in this country. I believe in the future of it, and am literally teaching the children of it.
‘Disturbing’
But the thought that I won’t be able to be treated as a citizen is disturbing. As are policies proposed by the Reform UK party that include banning indefinite leave to remain altogether.
I’m often asked why I moved to London, and I give a variety of answers: I wanted a change; I’ve always been a bit bold; I was interested in ResearchEd.
But the truth is I was terrified of stagnation, of having put all the sweat and tears into advancing myself without a single child who I could point to as evidence of the meritocratic nature of the system in which I worked.
I left America with three suitcases and a dream. England offered me the opportunity to see an outsized impact for my work.
This is the message I tell the children I teach every day: this society isn’t about luck, if you work hard, you will get the same GCSEs as anyone at any other school.
My sense of moral duty has improved. My sense of obligation to a civilised society is stronger than before. Very simply, I’m a better person.
For the entire time I’ve lived here, I believed that the strength of British identity and pride would withstand anything, that no gale could deter the journey forward.
How naive I had been.
‘The toxicity of American discourse has reached these shores’
Something I had been planning on is now suddenly, potentially, out of reach. The uncertainty of what my future would hold is back.
Worryingly, I knew that the toxicity of American discourse had finally reached these shores.
You may be tempted to say ‘well, you’re clearly contributing to British society, you’ll be fine’.
But that is besides the point: the country I came to just four years ago is increasingly becoming one I no longer recognise.
There are many dedicated teachers, like me, across the country who will now be placed in limbo.
They may decide that the increased pressures are no longer worth the increasing hostility. Worse, they may be denied the ability to stay and continue their careers.
Add to this the uncertainty for teachers who already have indefinite leave. They may well take up an opportunity in more welcoming countries, rather than one which increasingly says ‘you’re not wanted here’.
With an ageing population and long-standing recruitment crisis, this is a serious error in judgment.
I take pride in knowing that I’m contributing to some of the best readers in the world and that English schools are leading international education discourse.
And that is the message I want Labour to be shouting from the rooftops. A message of progress, of hope, and yes, of pride – not a zero-sum game rooted in debating whether someone is British enough.
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